


The Umbrella

by tsuki_llama



Series: The Office [4]
Category: Darker Than Black
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Office Romance, noodle bowls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 06:22:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8654083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsuki_llama/pseuds/tsuki_llama
Summary: Misaki and Hei stop for dinner after a late night at the office.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm writing this series out of order and without a ton of continuity...it's more of a string of related one-shots than an actual series. So if it ever looks like I'm referencing something that you don't remember reading, it's probably because I just haven't written it yet, and might not. There should be enough clues in context to understand it. (If not, ping me)

The office was silent except for the soft clicking of keyboard keys and the steady patter of a light rain against the side of the building. Misaki’s eyes were tired from the strain of staring at her computer screen all day, but it was only - she glanced at the time - just after seven. There was still a lot of work that she could finish up tonight before going home.

Everyone else in the office had left about an hour ago. Everyone except for Hei; he sat at the computer across from her, typing carefully. A sudden series of loud, rapid keystrokes caught her attention. She glanced across the top of her monitor to see his brow furrowed in irritation at whatever mistake he was currently deleting, and suppressed a smile. His typing had improved a lot over the past month, but he still had a long way to go.

It wasn’t the first time that they’d ended up alone together in the office, after everyone else had gone home. Sometimes he went out with the others after work, if he was expressly invited - but only then. She’d observed his interactions with the rest of their team. He was quiet, slow to join in on their jokes, and always seemed surprised to be included. It confused her at first; this new personality, much milder than the Black Reaper but nowhere near as open and cheerful as Li, didn’t seem at all suited for the role of police detective, and she wondered that he would put in the effort to maintain it. But she was slowly starting to realize that maybe he wasn’t putting on an act at all. That this was just…him.

But most nights he stayed as late as she did, finishing reports or just reading through old files when there was nothing else to do. In the beginning she thought that he might be trying to score points with her, show her that he was a hard worker; but after a couple of weeks she decided that that wasn’t it. He never showed the same kind of ambitious drive that young recruits often did; he just did the work because it was there and needed to get done. He would leave when she left, walking to the elevator with her in silence and then heading off in the opposite direction once they exited the building with a brief good night.

It had made her nervous, at first. Not because she was at all afraid of him; she wouldn’t have hired him if she’d thought for a moment that he would harm anyone, let alone herself. No, he made her nervous because she hadn’t forgotten that one night. That one night, when he’d still been working for the Syndicate but doubling as her confidential informant. He’d stopped by her place well after midnight to deliver a tip about a job; they’d argued heatedly about some point or other and the latent desire that had always been simmering just beneath her skin had burst to the surface. It had been intense, and hot, and brief. He’d left while she was still sleeping. Not too long after that the Syndicate had imploded and he’d fled the country.

Neither of them had ever mentioned a word about it, then or now, a year later. It had been a one-time thing, a get-it-out-your-system, spontaneous act that she didn’t regret, and didn’t need to repeat. And by now it was clear that he felt the same way. It was kind of nice to have the company, now that she was used to him sticking around this late. She was just worried that he felt obligated for some reason.

He looked up suddenly, as if he could feel her watching him. She hurriedly looked away, glancing down at Saitou’s report for the information that she needed to fill in on the next screen - when the lights in the office abruptly flickered off, leaving only the low emergency bulbs to illuminate the desks. She glanced across the top of her monitor and met his gaze.

“It wasn’t me,” he said.

She snorted. “I know; it’s those damn automatic sensors.” They’d been installed earlier that week, part of the government’s push to save energy. The problem was, they kept turning off after normal working hours, when there was no longer anyone still walking around the office - despite the fact that Misaki and Hei were still sitting at their desks. Misaki stood; at her motion, the lights clicked back on. She considered going over and flipping the override switch, but her neck was sore and she could really use a break from the computer.

“I think I’m going to call it a night,” she told Hei. “You should head out too; everyone else is gone.”

“Oh. Okay,” he said.

Misaki closed out the programs on her computer, and watched him doing the same, wondering again why he was still there. “You can leave earlier if you want, you know,” she said.

He looked up as if surprised that she was still speaking to him. “Oh. Do you not want me working late?”

“You’re not paid hourly; you can work whenever you want to. I just didn’t want you to feel obligated to stay as late as me. You must have other things to do.” She was actually curious about what he did with his free time, but had never asked, and he’d never volunteered any information that she hadn’t asked for first.

But he shrugged. “Not really; just dinner. Actually…” he hesitated, then continued, “I prefer being here. At least I can be useful. I don’t really have anything else.”

A lonely expression crossed his face, so briefly that she wasn’t sure she’d really seen it. “I know what you mean,” she said quietly, standing and collecting her purse. “I don’t really know what do to with myself outside of work either. I was thinking of grabbing a noodle bowl on my way home. Do you…maybe…want to join me?”

“Um, alright,” he said, a bit bemusedly.

“Okay. Well, I’ll just grab my coat, then we can lock up the office.” She turned quickly to hide the flush that was beginning to creep into her cheeks. Why had she asked him out like that? No, she hadn’t asked him _out_ \- it wasn’t a date or anything. It was just that he needed to eat, and she needed to eat, so they may as well eat together.

She headed over to the elevators first, hitting the light switch on her way out. Then - _shit, my phone_. She spun on her heel - and nearly bumped into Hei, who had been right behind her. “Oh, sorry,” she said, breathless, his physical presence suddenly consuming her entire awareness. “I left my phone on my desk.”

He stepped back immediately to let her by, running his hand awkwardly through his hair. Misaki mentally shook herself, and fetched her phone.

They rode the elevator down to the parking garage level in silence. As they stepped out, Misaki said, “There’s a good noodle stand just up the block. I mean, it’s not the best, but you get a lot for the price. It’s close enough to walk, anyway.”

“That sounds fine.”

The drizzle outside was cold, but light enough that Misaki didn’t feel the need to pull out her umbrella. Nevertheless, they walked quickly, her pulling her coat tightly around herself and Hei with his hands stuff deep into his trouser pockets. It was with relief that they ducked into the cozy little stand.

It was crowded inside, the wet night having driven many people to seek warmth. Misaki spotted two stools at the far end of the counter. It was tight, but at least they had a place to sit. She took off her coat and draped it over her stool. Hei looked as if he desperately wanted to remove his suit jacket, but there was no place for him to hang it, and none of the other men were in their shirt sleeves. He compromised by loosening his tie a little.

Misaki suppressed a laugh. “You look like you’re choking in that thing.”

“It feels like I am.”

“You know,” she said as the owner brought them two beers, “you don’t have a wear a tie every day.” Then she _did_ laugh out loud at the relief that washed over his face. “I’ve been meaning to tell you that you don’t have to be so strictly formal with your office attire; you always look so uncomfortable.”

He shrugged somewhat sheepishly. “It does make me feel a little like a waiter.”

The owner of the stand, a middle-aged man with glasses perpetually half-fogged over from steam, brought their food and the conversation turned to the types of dishes they liked to eat. Misaki’s knowledge of cooking extended to what she could read on the menu, but Hei, it turned out, had a deep understanding of how to make all sorts of dishes from a variety of regions. He even knew their names in their original language. The owner, overhearing Misaki’s question about the difference between southern and northern Chinese styles, wandered over and struck up a discussion about a type of egg preparation. At least, that was what she thought they were talking about. She didn’t mind being excluded from the conversation at all - Hei was speaking with more animation than she’d ever seen from him when he wasn’t playing a part, and it was fascinating to watch.

“Where do you cook?” the owner asked.

“I don’t,” Hei said. “I just cook for myself, at home.”

“Just yourself?” the owner asked, with a friendly glance at Misaki.

Hei’s cheeks turned the tiniest bit pink. “Oh, we’re not - we work together,” he stammered out. Misaki, though equally embarrassed, had to bite her lip to keep from smiling.

“My apologies,” the man said; then another patron called him over, and he left them to themselves again.

Misaki finished the last of her beer, the alcohol warming her pleasantly. “Why _don_ _’t_ you cook professionally?” she asked Hei, who was staring almost unseeing at the last noodle in his bowl. He’d already drained the broth.

He glanced up at the sound of her voice. “I think about it, sometimes. If Section Four doesn’t work out I might give it a try.”

“Do you think Section Four won’t work out?” she asked in alarm. “I thought you liked it with us.” He’d only been with them for a month, but already he was a huge asset to the team. Everyone liked him, and the thought of not seeing him at the office every day left her with an inexplicable pang in her heart.

His eyes widened. “No, I don’t mean that. It’s just…they’re going to find out some day, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to stay if they do.”

So it was this old worry again. She’d told him in his final interview that she was sure her team would be welcoming to any contractor who had proved his loyalty, but he hadn’t seemed to believe her. In fact he’d been so concerned that she’d agreed not to announce the fact at all, instead leaving it up to him to decide when to tell them who he really was. Though at this point she was beginning to suspect that he never would, despite that his application had been in direct response to her call for a contractor position.

She ran her finger along the rim of the beer bottle. “Hei, do you remember your interview with me, when I asked you why you wanted to join the police, and if you were really serious about it?”

He nodded.

“At the time I had the feeling that you weren’t being completely honest. I mean, I know you answered truthfully and I believe you meant what you said; but was there anything that you _weren_ _’t_ saying? Another reason besides wanting to use your skills in a way that would help people?”

His gaze flicked away to stare into his bowl again. “I guess…no one’s ever believed in me enough to give me a chance, like you did,” he said at last. “I didn’t really want to join the police, I wanted to join _your_ team.” He glanced up at her then and she held his gaze, his dark eyes slowly consuming her. She knew then that she hadn’t gotten him out of her system at all; she didn’t see how she ever could.

“Well, I meant what I said then,” she said. “And I still mean it. You can tell them whenever you feel the time is right, and it’ll be fine. I promise.”

He nodded slowly, but was saved from having to answer when the owner came over to collect their bowls and their money.

They stood, and Misaki pulled on her coat. Hei pushed back the awning to leave the stand and only just missed being dunked by a deluge of icy water. Thunder boomed overhead; the light drizzle had turned into a heavy downpour while they’d been eating. Misaki fished around in her bag for her collapsible umbrella.

“There’s room for both of us under this,” she said, preparing to open it. “Let’s walk back to the garage and I’ll drive you home.” His apartment was in the opposite direction as hers, but it wasn’t far.

Hei, being the taller of the two, held the umbrella over them both as they splashed out onto the sidewalk. There _was_ room enough, but just barely. Misaki pressed close against his side, and after nearly being separated and pushed out into the rain by a man rushing past with a newspaper over his head, she tucked her arm under Hei’s and held on tightly. Despite the chill in the air she was warm and cozy, surprised by the contentedness that she felt. She wondered if Hei felt it too; for instead of hurrying like the others on the street, he slowed their pace to an almost meandering walk.

“Hei,” she said as they neared headquarters and the parking garage all too soon, “can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Do you…do you ever think about that night, back when you were with the Syndicate? At my place?” She couldn’t bring herself to add any more identifying details, but by the way his arm tensed under her hand she was sure he knew what she was talking about.

“Yeah…” He hesitated. “A lot, actually. I've wanted to talk to you about that, but I wasn’t sure how to bring it up.”

She took a deep breath. “Oh. What did you want to say?”

He was staring straight ahead, not looking at her at all. Thunder rumbled in the distance. “That I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” The disappointment shouldn’t hurt as much as it did.

“I - well, it shouldn’t have happened that way. Then I should have stayed and talked to you, but I panicked and left. And I’m sorry.”

“How _should_ it have happened?” Misaki asked, confused.

They had reached the shelter of the empty parking garage. Hei lowered the umbrella to the ground, rainwater pooling at their feet as he turned to face her, his features partially hidden in shadow. Misaki’s heart was pounding; without really realizing that she was doing it, she let go of his arm and placed her palms on his solid chest, leaning in slightly.

“Like this,” Hei said, leaning in as well. Their lips met, barely brushing. Misaki gripped his shirt and pulled him closer as his hands rested on her waist, warm and comforting. He sucked gently at her lower lip, and it was only a lingering awareness that they were more or less in public that kept Misaki from opening her mouth further.

They broke apart at last, both breathing heavily for such a slow, tender kiss. Hei rested his forehead against hers, his arms still wrapped around her waist. “Maybe we can have dinner again some time?” he asked, and she smiled at the hesitation still in his voice.

“Yeah,” she said. “That would be nice. And if you want to keep working late…that would be nice too.”


End file.
